“Hanns, get over here, now!” the General commanded.
Carla turned in the direction he’d shouted to see who he was shouting at.
Godfrey Hanns stepped out from behind a desk, and he began walking over to the General. When he saw Carla, he stopped dead in his tracks. His eyes widened.
“YOU!” Carla cried, realizing what had happened in an instant.
A wet patch appeared on the front of Godfrey’s beige trousers as he peed his pants for the second time in her presence.
“You two know each other?” Parklon frowned at Godfrey, widening his eyes when he noticed the wet patch on his trousers.
“Can I call him Mr. Pissy Pants from now on?” Gobbert asked, laughing at Godfrey. “Ah, don’t worry, he won’t hear me. He’s not broken.”
Carla had to bite her lip to stop herself from laughing at Gobbert’s comment. “Yep, he’s my old boss. The one who replaced you,” she said to Parklon.
“Did you attack him?” the General asked.
“I shouted at him, and my powers kind of kicked in at the same time.” She glanced at Parklon. “They stopped working around the time you left. Then Godfrey was bullying me at work and calling me all kinds of awful things, so I got really angry, and they came back at that moment.”
Parklon’s scowl darkened at her words. “How was he bullying you?”
“Oh, you know.” She tried not to sound too pathetic. “Telling me I was bad at my job, things like that.”
“And?” Parklon clearly didn’t believe her.
“Okay, he said I belonged in an asylum and that I was an illegitimate freak, and some other things.”
Parklon growled in Godfrey’s direction, and then he turned back to Carla. “So you physically attacked him?”
“What? No! I shouted at him and told him to stuff his job. But the, er… windows… you know the ones near the sink in the old lab? Well, when my powers came back, they kind of blew out onto the field outside the lab. I didn’t think Godfrey was hit though, he just er…”
“What?” Parklon was quite the interrogator.
“Well, he wet himself, I think.”
“Mr. Pissy Pants strikes again!” Gobbert giggled.
“This is more than a blown-out window!” The General produced a file with photographs of the lab. The lab was a burnt-out wreck. Nothing in it remained intact. Just charcoal remains of work benches and chairs lay on the blackened floor, surrounded by shattered and melted glass, which had once been test tubes and vials.
Carla grabbed the photograph and studied it. “I didn’t do that!”
“So you didn’t shoot fireballs from your hands and try to burn the laboratory with Godfrey in it?” the General asked her, appearing unconvinced.
“No, I bloody didn’t! I can’t shoot fireballs, I don’t think,” she said.
“You don’t know?” The General seemed surprised.
“Well, er no. I mean, I can move things. I learnt to do that. But I haven’t been able to read minds or do anything else lately.”
“You can’t read minds now?” Parklon asked. “Er, Carla, that’s not normal.”
“None of this is normal!” she said.
“Yeah, but I mean that Rhecknaws—you know, your genetic heritage—they can’t change their powers on a whim,” he said.
“Do they lose their powers on a whim?” she asked.
“Brrroken!” Gobbert piped up.
“No, they can’t.” Parklon slyly scratched his head and in the process slapped Gobbert to shut him up. “I don’t think your powers are working properly.”
“Well, I know I didn’t blow up the lab!” She handed the photograph back to the General. “Get someone to investigate the scene. I did not start that fire.”
The General watched Parklon and Carla. The whole room did. Meanwhile, Godfrey was moving furtively toward the door marked ‘Exit’.
“Hey!” Carla shouted, noticing him trying to escape.
Godfrey jumped as her voice echoed through the room. Then he ran out of the door and slammed it shut behind him.
The General nodded at two soldiers near the back of the room. They rapidly followed Godfrey out of the door.
“It seems I have been lied to, and the guilty party has fled.” The General sighed. “I will investigate this matter before taking further action. And, Miss Mainston,” he added, glancing at Carla with honest green eyes. “I hope you’ll accept my apology. Be assured that the kill order on you will be revoked immediately. Should Mr. Hanns be found guilty of attempted murder and arson, he will be punished accordingly for it.”
“Yes, that makes me feel much better,” she said politely. The general seemed like an okay guy, for a boss.
“Miss Mainston, can I assume that you are now unemployed?” he asked.
“Well, yes, I’ve had some trouble getting a job since I made my last boss…”
“Into Mr. Pissy Pants?” Gobbert asked.
“…er, unhappy.” She managed to say without laughing.
“I see.” The General eyed her for a moment. “We could do with someone of your talents working with us, and we rarely have er, unhappy employees here. I’d be assigning you to working with agent four-five-nine if you were to consider working with us.”
“That would be great!” She peered at Parklon to check if it would be. He was smiling at her.
“Good. I’ll speak to personnel, and we’ll take it from there. For now you may go. However, you will need to sign a secrecy declaration before you leave.” He flashed a stern glance at Parklon, which she suspected was for forgetting the paperwork, and then he ushered them out of the control room.
As Carla and Parklon left the building, she peeked at Parklon. He’d been very quiet in the elevator journey back up to the ground-floor.
“Is it okay that I might be working with you again?” She turned to face him, tired of the silence.
“I don’t know.” He sighed.
“What?” She widened her eyes, feeling the urge to punch him again.
“No! I mean, I don’t know why he offered you a job.” He held up his hands in surrender to her wrath.
“That’s not any better!”
“I mean.” He stopped her walking away from him by grabbing her arm and turning her to face him. “I don’t know what the General wants from you. I’m worried he may try to use your powers or put you in a dangerous situation.”
“Oh…” She paused. She hadn’t considered that. “Do you think I should have said no?”
“No, I don’t know.” He frowned. “I don’t want you in danger, but you seem to find it anyway. At least this way, I’ll be by your side.”
She playfully smacked him on the arm. “Hey! I’m not that bad!”
“Well, you do get into trouble a lot.” He laughed.
“Oh, and you don’t?” She aimed for his arm again with her fist, but he grabbed it and pulled her toward him instead. Off balance, she fell into his arms, and he tilted her face up to his.
“Right now, however, we need to finish the rest of that conversation we were having earlier.” He brushed his lips lightly over hers, and her legs felt as if they’d turned jelly.
“Yes, it’s about time we did,” she mumbled, responding with little teasing kisses on his lips.
He growled, pulling her closer to him. “God, I’ve missed you,” he muttered between kisses.
“God, I’m gonna throw up.” Gobbert complained, floating around them.
Carla broke off the kiss, laughing. “Gobbert, please go away.”
“Can’t, you have stuff to fix,” Gobbert said, placing his tiny hands on his tiny hips.
She peered at Gobbert, and then sighed. Then she glanced at Parklon. “He’s right, you know. I do have things to fix.”
“Like what?” Parklon asked.
“I need to pay that hotel bill, for starters,” she said. “And I need to speak to Bex, and apologize maybe?”
“I can’t help on the Bex issue. I suspect I’ll just make it worse
, but I can help on the hotel bill,” Parklon said.
“I can’t take your money.” She shook her head.
“Then don’t. I’ll dock it from your first wage since I’m your boss.” He winked at her.
“Hey! He never said you were the boss.” She elbowed him in the ribs.
“I am the senior agent.” He grinned.
“For now, perhaps.” She narrowed her eyes, but smiled at the same time. “Now give me your money.” She winked at him.
“Oh, so that’s how it is, is it?” He shook his head, pulling some bills out of his wallet.
“You betcha!” She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.
He turned at the last moment and caught her lips.
“Cheater,” she mumbled between kisses as she kissed him back, all humor instantly gone from her voice as she fell gladly into a heated embrace.
“Never with you,” he whispered.
“Stuff to fix.” Gobbert tapped his foot on fresh air while he bobbed around them on his bubble. “Making me want to barf again… and again…” he added.
Carla woefully pulled away from Parklon. Kissing him was addictive. She wanted to do it all day. “I’ll just go and pay the hotel, and then I’ll come straight to the apartment,” she said.
“I’ll pick up something for dinner and whip up a romantic surprise.” He seemed reluctant to release her from his arms, but eventually did.
“You cook? Do you knit too?” She chuckled.
“You should see my sock collection.” He grinned, and then glanced at his watch. “Meet at about eight, at the apartment?”
“That sounds perfect. I’ll be there early.” She pecked him on the cheek and then walked away smiling.
She glanced back as she walked away and saw that he was watching her with a grin. She waved when she turned the corner, then he was gone.
After a contented sigh, she smiled, bouncing on happy clouds.
He likes me! He likes kissing me. She walked toward the main high street, heading for the hotel, unaware of darkness falling on the side street she was currently walking down. All she could think about was Parklon and his ocean-blue eyes.
Something hard smacked her on the back of the head and the last thing she saw was the pavement heading toward her.
Godfrey watched gleefully as the brick connected with Carla Mainston’s head. Finally, someone was going to take out that freak!
He excitedly gripped his steering wheel, watching a spiky-haired girl dragging Carla’s limp body into the back of a small yellow car.
When he had escaped from the Scientific Institute, he had run through a dark alley to the street where his car was parked. He’d hidden in the vehicle while trying to work out what to do next. Luckily, he’d parked on a side street this morning and not in the Institute parking lot.
He’d been sitting in his car wondering what to do next. The General was relentless, and Godfrey had no idea where to hide from him and his agents.
While contemplating his options, he’d seen Carla walk around the corner of the street with a big grin on her face.
Probably happy about ruining my life! She hadn’t noticed him sitting in his car and had walked straight past him. He’d seen the spiky-haired girl sneak out of an alleyway behind Carla with a brick in her hand, and his heart had jumped for joy when she’d launched it at Carla’s head.
The bitch deserved it!
Seeing Carla slump to the ground, and the other girl shoving her into the back of her car had been a happy moment for Godfrey. He didn’t know what was happening, but he wanted a piece of the action.
He started his car when the yellow one began moving forward. He followed it at a distance. Whoever the girl was, she was getting revenge for him, and he wanted to see what else she had planned for her purple cargo.
He daydreamed while he followed the car across the city. Now, if she’d only pick up Parklon along the way and bash his head in too, Godfrey’s day would have a perfect ending.
They left the city, heading down country roads into a more rural area. Godfrey fell back a bit, increasing the distance between the two cars. He didn’t want to spook the spiky-haired girl, and she’d be more likely to notice him on the back roads because they had less traffic.
She pulled into a broken-down farmhouse, and parked the car. Godfrey went past it, intending to come back on foot.
He drove a few hundred yards past the house to a small clearing, which was intended for the use of horse-riders. Parking his car, he ran back toward the house through the woodland.
He found a good vantage point where he could watch the farmhouse driveway. It had trees and shrubbery concealing his presence, and it offered a good view of the girl and her car.
She was already out of the car, and dragging Carla’s unconscious body toward the house. He could hear her talking. He couldn’t hear what she was saying, but he wondered who she was speaking to.
There seemed to be no one else around. Is she talking to herself?
He watched the girl struggle through the farmhouse door with her unconscious captive. Once inside, she kicked it shut behind her.
Frowning, he realized that he needed to get closer, so he sneaked around the back of the house, crouching low to the ground so he wouldn’t be seen through the windows.
The house was creepy. The land around it was scattered with old machine parts and some lethal-looking tractor blades. Most of the things were rusted and looked as if they hadn’t been used in years.
The house itself was dark and ropey-looking. The roof had holes in it, the brickwork had long cracks all the way down to the ground, and the building appeared to be subsiding.
He reached the side of the house and peered up through one of the windows.
The windowsill hadn’t been painted in years, and the paint flaked off when his hands touched it. Big cobwebs tickled his face as he leaned closer to the window to see through it.
He flinched and nearly cursed aloud when the cobweb touched his skin, but he managed to remain silent as he rubbed the creepy web off his face.
Glancing back at the window, he noticed that it was a dark brownish color. It looked as if it hadn’t been cleaned in decades.
Inside the building, a torn black rag—which couldn’t really be classed as a curtain—hung over the window, but he could see through the tears in it.
The girl had tied Carla to a chair, and she was holding a knife in her hand and pacing the room. She was still talking, but he couldn’t hear what she was saying.
Carla felt as if she had the mother of all hangovers, and she forced her eyes to open. God, why does my head hurt so much?
She tried to hold her head, but her arms wouldn’t move. She tugged them, feeling something coarse and tight wrapped around her wrists, fastening them behind her back. She tugged against the bindings, discovering that she couldn’t move her arms or wrists at all.
There was a low muttering sound in the unfamiliar room, and the air smelled musty and moldy.
She warily opened her eyes, and glanced around as much as she could without moving her head, feigning sleep until she knew what was going on. Something was terribly wrong. She could feel it.
She silently studied the badly-lit room. With only a few beams of light peeping through its grimy windows, she could make out a dirty old couch in the corner, which was ripped and had stuffing and springs poking out of it. The floor was made of old, unvarnished wooden-boards that had rotted away in places.
She hitched her breath when she noticed the shadow of a person at the other side of the room. They were facing the wall and talking to someone.
Carla tugged on the bindings around her wrists as silently as possible. She realized she was tied to a chair. A bubble of panic expanded in her throat as she realized she was in deep trouble.
She carefully listened to the words that her captor was saying. It was definitely a girl talking, but her voice was husky and low as if something demonic was speaking. She couldn’t understand the words. They made
no sense.
“And she takes my special things. If goblins were here, they’d stop it. I will defeat the darkness. He doesn’t love her. Razor blades in my eyes. Then they’ll know…” On and on in a dull monotone, the girl continued to speak to the wall with her back to Carla.
Goosebumps popped up on Carla’s arms. She sounds like a lunatic!
As her eyes adjusted to the dimness, Carla searched the room for something that would help her escape this nightmare, but she couldn’t find anything.
She glanced back at the girl. Reasoning with her didn’t seem like an option. Unable to find a way out, Carla silently studied her captor. The girl was standing in a shadowed part of the room and looked like a shadow herself.
The strange girl moved out of the shadows into a beam of sunlight. She wore a short skirt, boots, and a t-shirt. Her hair was spiky and... Oh, God!
With a sense of impending doom, Carla recognized Bex.
Parklon stared at the empty seat across from him and waited. He was usually good at waiting for things. On the job, he sometimes had to wait in one location for days until it was the right moment to make his move, but this was different.
He glanced at the chicken that was going cold on the table. They’d had a date, and Carla was over an hour late. The creamy coffee dessert called tirimachoo still looked edible and the rocket salad with White Lightening vinegar dressing was going to last. I suppose I can have chicken sandwiches this week.
He dialed her number again on his cell phone, listening to it ring repeatedly before eventually hanging up and dropping it on the table. Where the hell is she?
He’d worried about Carla for over an hour. Now, he was veering toward feeling jilted.
He angrily gulped a mouthful of wine. How dare she stand me up after all the things I’ve done for her?
It was clear that she wasn’t coming, but he couldn’t understand why.
Had she run away again? She has been doing that a lot lately. Had she changed her mind? Was it all a joke to her? Was he just another stupid guy she could wrap around her finger?
Science Fiction and Fantasy Box Set 1: The Squishies Series Page 33
